Making Room
by fragrantfields
Summary: Birthday fic for defyingnormalcy :-) Hobbs/Raydor Andrea and Sharon do some re-decorating to make Rusty feel even more at home, complete with an unexpected addition!


_I'm a professional, _Andrea reminded herself._I'm a professional woman of a certain age, an officer of the court, and I will not be swayed._

It was useless. Sharon was hard to resist on a daily basis, even when she was buttoned up and clad in what Andrea had started referring to as her leather armor. Here, in the stuffy room, dressed in paint-stained cut-offs and a tank top, that glorious hair carelessly piled on top of her head….

Andrea could have managed until her eyes were drawn to shimmery beads of sweat starting to trickle down between Sharon's shoulder blades, along the curve of her spine. She stood staring, the paintbrush in her hand forgotten until a blob of mint green fell squarely on top of her big toe.

Sharon turned at Andrea's chagrined groan. "Problem, Counselor?"

"It's hard to do this when I'm distracted." She carefully rested her brush on the rim of the can. "I need a break." She crossed the tarp-covered floor and cupped Sharon's shoulders lightly, finally pressing her lips to the tantalizing glow of her lover's sweat-damp skin. She could feel her relaxing into the soft touch for just a second, then straightening again.

"As soon as we get finished, and I get a shower—"

"You mean, 'we' get a shower," Andrea said, moving back to her task, but not before giving Sharon's denim-clad bottom a full-handed teasing smack.

"Andrea!" Sharon sounded more annoyed than Andrea expected over a kidding-around spank. "Look at this."

Sharon turned her hip so Andrea could see the damage. Right on the crest of Sharon's rear was a mint-green handprint, vivid against the faded blue. She groaned inside, imagining Rusty's crowing over such obvious evidence that two of his Moms couldn't keep their hands off each other.

"I can get that out, Sharon. It's water-based, right?" she reminded her hopefully.

"Maybe I don't want to get it out." Her green eyes were alight with mischief. "How about if I just get you back?" She sauntered towards Andrea, arms out, and wrapped her arms around her, ending with both hands firmly planted on the back pockets of Andrea's cream-colored shorts.

If she had been also wielding a brush loaded with mint-green paint, it wouldn't have been that obvious—the shade was a subtle one, muted and soothing, and not too different from the cool cream fabric. But Sharon had wanted to give Rusty a room that was more unique than the "guest room" he'd moved into two years ago. And his kitty-sitting stint at Provenza's place (Sharon had thanked her lieutenant profusely through sneezes for fostering Princess until the family was ready to take her back) was the perfect opportunity.

Furniture had been shifted and stored until there was room for a comfortable paprika-colored wing chair and ottoman by the window. Andrea had picked out a light cinnamon bedspread that matched the scrolled design on the new curtains Sharon had chosen.

Both loved the mint-green shade of paint, a match for one of Rusty's favorite shirts. But the more they'd perused the swatches at the paint store, the more apparent it became that they'd need a punch of accent color to pull the cool walls and the vibrant furnishings together.

"This one!" they'd both exclaimed at the same moment, pulling out the "Allspice" card from the rack.

Which is how Andrea came to have spicy mustard handprints on the back of her shorts.

She'd been right. Rusty did plenty of crowing, chuckling and smirking over the decorated shorts Sharon and Andrea had donned again after a cooling (then heated, then cooling again) shower. Then they'd walked him, eyes shut tight, to his room.

For a second, he didn't say anything, just looked at the new furniture and decorations, at the bright colors and unexpected touches. He finally turned, eyes beaming but a touch worried. "It's awesome, guys…it makes me think of those piles of spices in middle eastern stores, but modern, too, you know? But…" he chewed his bottom lip. "I'm not going to be here forever, Sharon. And I thought guest rooms were supposed to be…I dunno, more neutral, kind of."

Andrea suspected Sharon's heart was melting at this...she knew hers was. She hadn't been co-parenting Rusty as long as Sharon had, but he had thoroughly gotten under her skin anyway. She wished her usual wish that she and Sharon had been there for him as soon as his starter mom decided she was done.

"It's not a guest room, Rusty. It won't be, ever again." Sharon's tone was firm, with just a hint of quaver. "It's_your _room. Even if you go to college a million miles from LA, this is your room. In _your_ home." Sharon's eyes, then Rusty's began a suspicious glistening and Andrea gathered them into a hug. She rubbed a soothing hand on each back, hoping to forestall all the tears that threatened. She was doing some rapid blinking herself.

"Come on, you two. I'm starved and I got ingredients for a new recipe today." Rusty lit up at that. He and Andrea could spend hours in off-beat markets and the cookbook section of book stores. As long as they remembered to bring home various exotic teas, and didn't expect her to do the cooking, Sharon seemed fine with that.

Two hours later, everyone pushed back from the table with muted groans. The mint tea had been the perfect counterpoint to the elegant Moroccan chicken tagine, redolent with turmeric, cinnamon, garlic and cayenne pepper. After a few jokes about recipes inspired by paint swatches and the expected teasing about strategically-placed handprints ("c'mon, guys, not in my room!") the talk turned to decor and other touches to make the room come alive. Andrea asked a few careful questions about preferences, and kept gently prodding over the next week.

.

.

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Huge brown eyes under bushy, incredibly serious eyebrows met Rusty's gaze, giving him a grave once-over. Rusty held his breath, then grinned as the wagging tail indicated he'd been approved as the resident human.

"It really is perfect now," Rusty said, an arm around each woman's waist. He'd be rushing in for hugs and head scritches in a minute, but for now, he just wanted to admire the scene before him. Both Andrea and Sharon assured him they all would have a great summer, everyone would get comfortable with each other, and when school started, he'd have a friendly face to greet him every time he walked in the door.

The new addition preened and posed in the center of the paprika-colored chair like he owned the place. His eyes were brimming with sensitivity, and Rusty knew instinctively that any problems he had could be shared with this patient, loving creature, who would try to fix them to the best of his doggie abilities.

"You were right. This is just what we needed." Sharon's whisper was to Andrea, but to Rusty, it sounded like she was talking to all of them.

All four of them…his family.


End file.
